


Quite a Common Curse

by scarimor



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Handcuffs, Humor, Magic Cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 20:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarimor/pseuds/scarimor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>She'd stayed awake until dawn broke, contemplating the various ways she would like to make Regina pay for this cruel and unusual stunt. Stringing the mayor up by her thumbs over a wasps' nest was her current favourite.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quite a Common Curse

**Author's Note:**

> This is the well-trodden fantasy/scifi fanfic trope - someone gets magicked/aliened a penis. It's less an excuse for smut (though there is smut eventually) than to torment our favourite White Knight (and everyone else to a lesser degree); because what's the point of a Saviour if you can't torment her?
> 
> [Swan Queen Fan Awards 2015](http://sqfanawards.tumblr.com/) \- thank you :)
> 
>   
> 

"You are being such a dick about this."

Regina Mills bristled visibly at Emma's insult, but didn't look up from her papers. "Your juvenile vocabulary serves only to prove me right," she said, her tone clipped. "You can't possibly know what's best for this town's teenagers."

Emma fumed on the other side of the mayor's desk. Her handful of scribbled notes was devolving into a crumpled mess as her fist clenched. She took a breath and tried to be civil.

"It's one evening a week, Regina. Friday night, in the park, far away from any residences. Some music, some hotdogs-"

"Storybrooke's park is not the place for rock concerts," said Regina. "It's meant for gentle walks, quiet picnics, and that ridiculous Frisbee game people play with dogs that can't hunt. I will not let you use our public amenities to re-live the delinquencies of your youth."

Emma's jaw tightened. The mayor really was being inexplicably obstinate. It was hard to hold back the urge to show Regina just how delinquent she would like to get on her ass at this point, but she managed to sustain her reasoned approach. "It will be organised, and properly monitored." She held up her lists. "Some of the kids have already volunteered as stewards, and we've got a weekly rota for an early morning litter-pick afterwards-"

"I'm sure you have plenty of experience of that." Regina stood up and crossed the room to return a file to a cabinet. "Do you plan to dust off your orange jumpsuit?"

Emma felt the tendons in her neck going rigid. She willed them to relax, determined to make her case. It was a good case. She was just trying to give the town's youngsters some focus, post-curse. They were growing up now that time was once again on the march, and she knew from her own experience what could happen when kids whose basic needs were met made their own entertainment. Carefully, she smoothed out her paper lists and placed them on the desk for Regina to inspect.

"This is a small town, Madam Mayor. A small town with adolescents in it. As the sheriff I'm telling you it would be a wise and beneficial use of our tax dollars to provide a regular, supervised outlet for their energy and creative juices."

Regina closed the cabinet and leant on it, pausing for a few seconds. Her eyebrow raised, and Emma felt a moment of hope that the mayor understood what a good idea this was. The feeling was short-lived. Regina's smile was too mocking to be in agreement.

"Miss Swan, that was almost eloquent." The smiled vanished. "My answer is still no. I won't have you encourage our youth to loiter in the park, make unholy noise long into the night, smoke illegal substances and urinate in the flowerbeds." Her heels clicked on the hard floor as she strode back.

Emma's shoulders sagged in disbelief. What the hell? Regina wasn't stupid. Surely the woman knew that her objections were nonsense. She was about to open her mouth to say as much when a sharp, unwelcome notion pricked at the back of her throat. Regina did know it. The only reason she was rejecting the proposal was because it was Emma's.

Emma couldn't keep up her civil front. Her teeth bared and she snarled her disgust.

"You utter _dick_!"

Regina's reaction was instant and swift. She spun around to glare at Emma, putting their faces mere inches apart. Dark eyes blazed with explosive anger. Her body shook and she hissed through contemptuous lips.

"How dare you speak to me like that!"

It was rhetorical and venomous, but over in a moment. Regina composed herself almost as quickly as she had erupted. She took a step back, before Emma had time to react to the outburst, and raised her right arm. Emma watched warily as Regina's hand hovered in the air between them, two fingers slightly extended towards her, then twisted suddenly with a flourish.

Emma recoiled instinctively. She recognised a magic gesture when she saw it, even though there didn't appear to be a tangible effect. No flash of flame. No puff of purple smoke. She didn't find herself flailing about on the floor in the guise of a newt. Emma glanced up at Regina's face, afraid of what the Evil Queen had conjured, but there was no clue in the calm and worryingly smug expression that Regina wore in response. Emma thought she caught the wake of a dark violet spark in the depths of Regina's eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure of it.

Emma couldn't keep the trepidation out of her voice. "What did you do?"

Regina's lip curled with apparent relish, as though she'd just devised a tasty new marinade for roasting someone on a spit. She turned and slowly circled her desk, ignoring Emma's fearful look.

"Good day, Miss Swan. Please see yourself out."

 

Emma seized the first chance she got to look in a mirror after she left. She ducked into the nearest boutique, shot the fitting room's curtain across and with relief confirmed that her head hadn't sprouted horns or snakes or something worse. Emma couldn't think of many things worse - ok, a rancid kipper where her nose should be would be worse than snakes. She opened her mouth and pulled at her teeth to make sure they weren't loosening or rotting to black. She tugged at her blonde hair and blew into her palms to smell her own breath. She prodded herself all over, from head to foot, but everything seemed to be intact and in the right place. Eventually, after a good ten minutes of checking and double-checking everything she could think of, Emma concluded that Regina must have faked casting a spell on her just to put her through this anxiety and futile effort. It would be just like her, the devious bitch, to give Emma a scare while avoiding the price of using magic. Regina was probably laughing to herself at this very moment.

Emma sighed and straightened her jacket. Enough of this crap. She needed to get back to the station. There was work she had to get done before lunch.

 

That night Emma had the strangest dream. It was strange for two reasons: one - because she knew it was a dream while she was dreaming it. Emma wasn't prone to lucid dreaming, but she figured this had to be one because the experience was just so bizarre and ridiculous it couldn't be anything else; and two - because her body was doing some odd things in all sorts of strange places.

It was just a faint tingling at first - at her fingertips and the ends of her toes and across her forehead. To begin with it felt almost nice. Then it grew stronger, and the sensations started to slide into her hands and feet and down across her face. Emma stirred fitfully as the pins and needles grew more intense. They were moving across her body, still in her fingers and toes, but now also along the length of her limbs, somehow migrating inwards as though energy and substance were gathering from her extremities and merging in the middle to feed something else.

Stupid dream, she thought. She tried to wake up. Her crawling skin was starting to irritate. Something felt wrong about this. Her blood wasn't meant to ebb inwards like that, it was meant to circulate. And what was with the muscles in her legs tugging towards her hips? Why was she getting all twitchy and prickly down there? What was so special about that place that the rest of her body had to accommodate?

Wake up, Emma, she insisted. It's really uncomfortable now. It's itchy and draggy and it doesn't feel right.

Her eyes shot open. She inhaled the cool air of the bedroom and blinked to get her bearings in the semi-darkness. Moonlight cast a dim shadow across the pale sheets, and Emma saw that the covers formed a strange shape half way down the bed. She squinted and moved to see what was there... and quickly held still again. It was something _under_ the sheet. Her squint turned into a puzzled frown. She definitely didn't feel right. Her body - an unusually sensitive part of her body - rubbed against the fabric. Lifting her head to peer closer, Emma saw that the covers formed a shallow peak. She risked another slight movement... rub rub. The peak shifted.

Emma froze. Her breath caught in her throat and her skin chilled like a corpse. No. No way. Her pulse skipped a beat, then started to race. Dread welled up in her chest like a troll climbing up the side of a bridge. Her trembling fingers found the edge of the covers and gripped them with white-knuckled panic. Slowly, her heart thumping so hard she thought it would crack a rib, Emma peeled back the covers...

And shrieked louder than a banshee on acid when she saw her brand new penis glistening in the moonlight.

 

"Emma!" David's yell produced a Doppler effect as it neared her bedroom rapidly from the lower floor of their apartment. "Emma, are you all right?"

The flimsy door burst open a second later as her father charged in with all the lack of prudence of his youth. Emma flipped over onto her side and pulled the bedcovers straight up to her chest.

"Fine! I'm fine!"

David hovered, dressed only in his boxers. He had his gun in his fist and was waving it with as much professionalism as anyone else who had no firearms training to speak of. Mary Margaret appeared in the doorway behind him. She spoke with a less than reassuring combination of concern and sleepiness.

"We heard you scream, Emma. Did someone break in?"

"What was it?" David's eyes darted about the room, unconvinced. "A wraith?"

'No, no!" Emma was fighting to get her breath. "I just had a nightmare. Nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure?" David lowered his weapon and moved towards her. "You sounded terrified."

Emma shrank back and clutched the covers to her chin, like a child sealing herself from imagined monsters in the night. Only the monster she was frightened of wasn't imaginary. It was real, and with her in the bed. Her voice grew shrill.

"Please go back to sleep!"

David backed off, startled by her vehemence. "Okay, it's all right. It must have been a really bad dream."

'It was." Emma thought she was going to choke. She managed a weak smile at her parents, desperate to reassure them so that they would get the hell out.

"Would you like me to make you some warm milk?" Mary Margaret asked wearily.

"No. Please go." A second later Emma remembered to add, "Thanks."

David nodded, apparently reassured that they weren't the victims of a home invasion or something worse. "Well, try to get back to sleep for a bit. It's almost sun up."

Emma nodded sharply and watched them with fixed wide eyes as they retreated. Once the door was shut she emitted a pained, shallow gasp. For a brief moment she sought solace in denial. What was happening couldn't really be happening, could it? But she knew it was. With difficulty she unwound the fingers of one hand from their vice-like grip on the sheet and reached out to the bedside lamp. Warm light banished the shadows when she flicked the switch, but did nothing to ease the tightness building in her chest. She levered herself up gingerly, wincing at the unwelcome sensation the movement generated.

Breathe, Emma. _Breathe_.

She willed her pounding heart to calm itself. It took her almost a minute, but slowly she mustered the courage to lift the sheet again. She looked.

There it still was.

"Oh my fucking shit."

She closed her eyes instinctively and swallowed, hard. Still holding the sheet up, she forced her eyelids to lift again and made herself stare at it.

Yes. It was a proper dick.

"The fucking bitch."

Emma didn't need to wonder how, why or who was responsible for it. Regina's spell had been the real deal after all. As was Emma's new dick. She could tell because it was partly erect and her sheet was damp.

Now that she was getting over the initial shock, Emma found herself able to take a more practical approach to her predicament. She let the sheet fall to the side and took a long, careful look at the thing protruding from her groin. It was unmistakably dick-shaped and dick-coloured. In fact it was exactly the right shade of fair to be unquestionably her own flesh. She reached down cautiously and touched it, her eyebrows rising when she felt her own cool fingertips brushing her skin.

"Holy fuck."

It was part of her. It _was_ her. This wasn't some kind of alien attachment or fake skinny-coated phallus, but a living, intrinsic part of her anatomy. If she had been born with a dick, this is what it would be like - right there emerging from her...

Oh crap!

Another moment of panic swept over her as she delved beneath it. Please, _please_ don't let it be the whole package... She felt around and exhaled with relief. No balls. Thank god; and the rest of her anatomy down there seemed to be more or less as it should.

This welcome discovery was enough to prompt her to relax a tiny bit. She watched as her dick appeared to take the hint and lost some of its rigidity. Emma let her head fall back against her pillow and finally refocused.

"By dawn's early light, Regina, I am going to make you fix this."

 

"You got up early to fold the laundry?"

Emma looked up from the laundry basket to see Mary Margaret's grateful smile. Her mother was still in her bathrobe and hadn't combed her hair yet. "Thank you, Emma, that's really sweet."

"Uh, no problem," said Emma, edging sideways to make sure she kept the dining table between them. She hadn't got up to do chores, of course. She'd stayed awake until dawn broke, contemplating the various ways she would like to make Regina pay for this cruel and unusual stunt. Stringing the mayor up by her thumbs over a wasps' nest was her current favourite. When Emma did get out of bed she soon discovered that nothing in her underwear drawer was going to accommodate her new endowment. So she snuck out, grabbed the laundry basket and rifled through it, looking to liberate a pair of David's boxers.

Mary Margaret collected some clean glasses from the sink drainer and wandered to the refrigerator. She took out a carton of juice.

"You want some?"

"No thanks." Emma made a show of folding some t-shirts, hoping that Mary Margaret would soon head back to bed.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Huh?"

"The nightmare. You woke us with your scream, remember?"

"Oh, sure, no worries. I'm great."

Mary Margaret smiled and yawned and turned away with two full glasses.

"Ok, see you after work."

When she had gone Emma dropped the shirts in a heap and grabbed a pair of boxer shorts from underneath. They were white with a red and yellow roses motif, and much too roomy around the waist, but they would have to do. Emma retreated to the privacy of her room and clambered into them. Then she dug out an old pair of cargo pants which she hated because they reminded her of her time in jail but which had proved useful now and then when bail hunts ended up in the wilderness. They were green and frayed and as ugly as shit, but her tight jeans were a non-starter and she really did not feel safe going out in public in a skirt. She was about to zip the fly up without thinking when she checked her movements just in time. God, that was close. Trapping it would be a bitch. With the tentative care of inexperience Emma felt around the front of her boxers and made sure that everything was neatly tucked. Then she finished getting dressed, remembering to affix her sheriff's badge to her pants.

At the top of the hour Emma charged into the Mayor's office, intent on ignoring all protocols as much as she wished she could ignore the unfamiliar weight that moved with every stride between her legs.

"Regina! Take this damned d-"

She bit her tongue and halted abruptly. Regina wasn't alone in her office. Instead the mayor was holding court with three youngsters who were gathered before her desk. They turned around at her aborted outburst, and Emma recognised the three as the same enthusiastic teens she had been working with to organise the Friday park concerts.

"Ah, Sheriff Swan, your timing is perfect." Regina's smile was so pleasant that it made Emma's intestines knot. The mayor was perched on the front of her desk, one shapely leg crossed over the other and her manicured fingers interlocked in her lap. "We're just going over the arrangements."

Emma blinked a couple of times and stuttered. "You... you are?"

Regina's smile grew more dazzling, though it didn't seem possible. "Yes. You were right, Sheriff. I was being..." She paused, and Emma could have sworn she winked. "Over-cautious."

One of the teens spoke up. He was bright-eyed and tousle-haired, and would probably be quite a catch once his hormones stopped wreaking havoc with the skin on his forehead.

"Mayor Mills says it's a go, Sheriff. She's given us a budget for flyers and stuff and we can start next week."

"She has?"

"And for the PA hire," said the girl whose thumbs seemed permanently attached to her iPhone keypad.

"And even for the hotdogs," said the other girl - the dark one who Emma couldn't tell from really Emo or struggling Goth.

"Isn't our mayor awesome?" said Forehead, beaming.

"Like, totally sick!" agreed Emo-Goth.

Emma sucked air through her teeth. "That she is."

Regina was just lapping it up. She tilted her head and pursed her lips at Emma in a smile of success. "It's the least we can do to keep our town's young people entertained and contented." She addressed her delighted audience again. "And I had another thought. We must set aside some funds to buy instruments and equipment, so that any of you who want to learn to play or engineer your concerts can borrow it."

The three teens gazed at Regina in adoration.

"Thank you!" iPhone gushed, looking like she might faint.

"Don't mention it, dear," said Regina, shamelessly working it. She tossed her glossy dark locks and leant towards them, revealing a little more perfect cleavage. "You're worth it."

The kids all but fell to their knees and offered her blood sacrifices.

Emma ground her teeth. This pubescent rapture was nearly more than she could cope with, and the way Regina basked in their worship made her want to spit. These teenagers either wanted to be her or make inexperienced love to her; probably both. They were unlikely to leave the temple's inner sanctum unless someone turfed them out.

"Ok great," said Emma, ushering them towards the open door. "I'll see you guys later and you can tell me about the first night's line-up. Now you go so the mayor and I can talk about... the security side of it."

The teenagers left, grinning at each other like they couldn't fathom their luck and throwing enamoured backward glances at Regina all the way to the exit.

"Isn't she wonderful?" iPhone whispered. "I gotta tweet this."

Emma rolled her eyes and shut the door on them with a pronounced shove. She spun around and advanced towards Regina, her mouth forming a tight line which left barely any room to get her words out.

"Right, Madam Mayor. You're going to take this damned thing back."

Regina slid down from her perch. "And good morning to you, Miss Swan. Is something amiss?"

Emma's fists clenched. "You know what you did."

Regina smirked. "I assume there must be. You don't seem to be your usual cocky self." Sarcasm dripped from her lips like hemlock.

Emma could hardly contain herself. "You find this _funny_? You screwed up, twisted, perverted..." She ran out of adjectives before she could work out how to complete the sentence. Regina pretended to be impressed.

"Three synonyms. Wonders will never cease."

"You spelled me a frigging _penis_!"

"Have you figured out how it works yet?"

"You'll take it back right now if you don't want to be shitting your own teeth."

Regina gave a melodramatic sigh at Emma's crude language. "I can't take it back, dear. It wasn't mine to start with."

"What?" Emma scowled in blatant disbelief. "You're trying to tell me you didn't do this?"

"I didn't say that. I said it wasn't _mine_ ; and it's not. It's grown from you, no one else."

Emma glared, her anger building close to the point where she couldn't hold back the urge for violence.

"So _un_ -grow it!"

Regina's tone was dismissive. "No, Miss Swan. I don't feel like it."

That did it. Emma snarled and charged like a bull, knocking Regina back and slamming her shoulders hard into a cabinet. The stainless steel shelves rattled with the impact.

"You're going to undo it!" Emma felt her lips slide back over her teeth in feral rage. "Because if you don't I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" Regina interrupted with a hiss. "You'll insult me some more, just to make sure I know you never grew out of being an ill-bred foul-mouthed brat?"

Emma's jaw dropped, and Regina seized the moment to push back. With effort she shoved Emma clear and straightened up.

"Do you really learn so little?" Regina asked, her expression contemptuous. "Yesterday you insulted me; twice. So I gave you some poetic justice, and now you actually think you'll persuade me to relent by marching in here and compounding your offence?"

Emma knew that her own mouth was moving but she was painfully aware that nothing coherent was coming out. She watched impotently as Regina slid past her with a smug look down and up Emma's shaking physique; then down again as if making a point.

"Now you'll excuse me, Miss Swan. I have a meeting with the Sisters about the community Christmas lunch. We need to draw up a menu. I think I'm going to suggest cock-a-leekie soup. "

Then Regina sashayed out of her office without sparing Emma another glance.

Emma stared after her. She had no words to call Regina back; and she still had a dick.

 

Emma didn't know what to do with herself. She didn't want to let Regina out of her sight. Emma knew she had to get her to lift the spell she'd cast on her as a matter of urgency, before she could get back to her life. It was going to be impossible to concentrate on anything else until that was fixed, including work. She couldn't imagine going about town or holding normal conversations while knowing she had this thing in her pants. Yet she didn't want to follow Regina into a conference room full of nuns in her current condition. She didn't really want to meet anyone, or go anywhere in public, until she could persuade Regina to undo the indignity she had inflicted.

God, this was awful. What if Regina kept up her flat-out refusal to lift the enchantment? How long might she have to stay like this? Perhaps it had indeed been a mistake to come on strong like that. Perhaps it would have been better to apologise and ask Regina nicely to undo the spell, instead of yelling and slamming her up against a cabinet. Why hadn't she even thought of that?

Emma scowled. Who was she kidding? Since when did apologies cut it with the bitch-queen archetype?

Emma hung around the town hall while the community lunch planning meeting went ahead, trying not to be noticed. A couple of times a secretary or clerk asked her if there was something they could help her with, and Emma muttered thanks and ducked and moved on to another room or staircase, feeling like a loitering thief who has no legitimate reason to be where she is. It was a good thing she was the sheriff or people would be suspicious.

Minutes passed, then half an hour, and Emma grew more agitated. She sat down on a bench outside the records room and let her head fall back hard against the wall. The sound of her skull meeting plaster was oddly therapeutic. Her situation was stupid and ridiculous. Never mind that, it was utterly surreal, that's what it was. She had a dick. A _dick_ , for fucks sake. Maybe she should talk to someone about it.

She rejected that notion the second it popped into her head. Who the hell could she talk to about something like this? Dr Hopper, perhaps? A surgeon, if it came to that?

Emma cringed and buried her face in her hands. No, no... surely it wouldn't.

A moment later Emma's limbs stiffened. Damn. She needed to pee. Great.

Her morning had been so bizarre she hadn't thought about that essential function until now that it was becoming obvious. She dropped her hands and sighed in defeat. This would be novel, to say the least.

It turned out to be nothing like as problematic as Emma feared. Safely locked inside a cubicle in the plush restroom, Emma discovered that Regina's spell had welcome limits to its assault on her female anatomy: to wit, she didn't pee out of her dick. Well that was a relief, in more than one sense. As she sat and held herself out of the way while she performed, Emma contemplated the rest of her life stuck like this. Despondency crept over her features. Her shoulders drooped and her forehead rested against the toilet-paper dispenser. Was this what it meant to be the people's saviour? Could this be the White Knight's price? Affliction by Eternal Penis?

All done, Emma rearranged herself with care and emerged from the cubicle. She had just finished drying her hands when Regina walked in and dropped a fine embroidered makeup case in front of the mirror. Their eyes met in the glass.

Emma decided not to waste this unexpected opportunity. She took a deep breath.

"Look, Regina, I... Will you..." She faltered.

Regina raised one eyebrow and began to apply lipstick.

"I mean..." Emma hesitated again. She sighed heavily. She wasn't hopeful, but she had to give this a try at least. "Will you please undo this. I'm sorry. Please." She cringed inside but forced her voice to sound contrite. "As a woman you must realise how freaky and horrible this spell is. Please undo it."

Regina pursed her lips around a tissue and peeled it off. "Are you trying to apologise, Miss Swan?"

Emma tasted bile at the back of her throat. "Yes. I'm apologising. That's what sorry means. That's why I said it."

"Really? You're sorry, are you? For calling me a - what was it?"

Emma wondered whether bile and crow tasted the same on the way back up. "Yes. I'm sorry that I called you a dick." She looked down at the floor briefly. Perhaps she wasn't laying it on thick enough. "And thank you, by-the-way, for agreeing to the Friday concerts; and for the budget. That's really going to help."

"Don't mention it."

Emma waited, expecting Regina to say something else, but the other woman remained silent as she applied some mascara to her eyelashes.

As if she needs it, Emma grumbled to herself. Life was full of injustice.

The silence lengthened and Emma felt even more awkward. Eventually she also felt compelled to speak.

"Well?"

"Well what, Miss Swan?"

"Are you going to undo it?"

Regina took her time replacing her makeup in the case and clicking it shut. She turned away from the mirror to inspect Emma directly. Her expression was hardly convivial and Emma's heart began to sink.

"I doubt your sincerity, Miss Swan."

"You what?"

"Which word was too difficult for you?"

"You think I don't mean it?" Emma felt the anger coming back.

"Oh, I'm sure you mean some of it," said Regina, a sneer forming on one side of her dark crimson mouth. "I'm sure you're feeling very sorry. For yourself."

Emma started to protest but Regina would not allow it. Her brown eyes flashed.

"It's been less than an hour since you burst into my office uninvited with your violent temper and utter lack of manners. So if you think I believe you've developed a radically enlightened perspective, you must have inherited more of your parents' idiocy than I thought."

Yeah, Emma realised, she'd been right the first time. As if there was ever a chance that Regina would give an inch; or remove so much as an inch. Of course it didn't help that the bitch was right. Emma wasn't sincere with her apology, and it was foolish of her to pretend that she was. And why should she be? This was Regina's fault, and now that it had escalated to this point Emma felt she was within her rights to punch her in the face.

Emma resisted, just, and wondered at the back of her mind whether this was how blood feuds started back in the Enchanted Forest: some harsh words, repaid with a single act of spite, leading to resentment and retaliation, then to vicious retribution, then brutal murder, then blood and guts strewn across a battlefield and the end of civilization as we know it.  She advanced on Regina until there was barely a breath between them, her fists clenched at her sides like chunks of granite.

"That's it," she said with quiet menace. "Undo your fucking spell or else." This time she told herself she really meant it.

And the low, dangerous timbre of her threat seemed to give Regina pause, because instead of sneering again or pushing past her or vanishing in a puff of smoke, Regina replied in a calm, almost hushed voice.

"We went with asparagus instead."

Emma blinked; and blinked again. She drew a blank.

"Huh?"

"For the soup."

Blink.

"And coq-au-vin for the main course."

"Wha-?"

"Coq..." Regina repeated, mere inches from Emma's face.

"You..." Emma fumed.

"Cock." Regina circled, closing what little space was left between them. Emma felt the porcelain basin digging into her back. Regina's mouth formed an obscenely suggestive 'O' shape. "Cock."

"Don't you-"

"Cock," Regina taunted again. Her eyes glittered with mischief and her lip curled with sadistic glee in Emma's face. Emma sensed the warmth of Regina's body seeping through her clothes and felt Regina's breath caress her lips. " _Cock._ "

Suddenly Emma froze and gasped. Her eyes shut tight and her fingers gripped the basin behind her for support. Seconds later, when she opened her eyes again, Regina was still there, right inside her personal space, but one eyebrow was quizzical.

"What?" Regina asked.

Emma gulped. "It moved."

Because it had. Whether it was because Emma was livid, or because Regina's vocabulary had turned uncharacteristically filthy, or because Regina was shoved up against it, or because it was simply responding to being called by name Emma didn't know, but this thing that was part of her but clearly not hers to command was stirring to life inside her Dad's boxers.

Emma grimaced. God that sounded so wrong in her head.

"Really?" Regina asked.

"Yes." Emma could feel the firm pressure building fast. She felt herself pushing harder against the inner confines of her shorts, and every inadvertent movement she made caused her to rub against a seam which until now she had not even realised was present. She twitched and swelled and started to throb. She gasped again, weakly, aware that there was nothing she could do about it.

Regina glanced down at Emma's groin. "So it does work."

"Guess so."

"That's interesting. I wasn't sure whether it would."

Emma spluttered. "What am I? A field experiment?"

Regina's eyes widened suddenly, at the same time as the growing tent of Emma's pants peaked and thrust against her loins. Regina inhaled sharply in response to the warm, hard contact. "Well how about that."

Emma tore her hands away from the basin and shoved Regina backwards.

"Take it off!" she pleaded, like a torture victim finally giving up and ready to confess all. "Please, take it off."

Regina took a further step back. She regarded Emma with a thoughtful expression.

"You know, Miss Swan," she said, tapping her makeup case against her chin, "I think you're missing a trick."

"What?" Emma winced. She wasn't accustomed to this kind of discomfort. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that there are plenty of men and women for whom your present condition is a dream come true."

"Excuse me?"

Regina gestured at Emma's manifestly functional protrusion with her makeup case. "You should take advantage of that. Go out and find some of them. There are bound to be a few in this town. Experiment, dear. Sow some oats. Enjoy the novelty. Have fun with it."

Emma couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her jaw dropped at Regina's scandalous suggestion. How dare she?

"You think I should go out whoring with this thing? You think I _would_?"

"Well I didn't put it like that. I didn't say anything about asking for money."

"Regina!"

"Although I'm sure there are plenty of red-blooded straight men who would pay for the novelty."

"No!"

"And you need not worry about using protection with the ladies. As far as I can tell you're shooting blanks."

"Well hoo-fuckin-ray." Outrage burned across Emma's cheeks. "We wouldn't want to knock anyone up, would we?" She advanced on Regina again, her body shaking with fury and desperation. "And I do mean 'we', Madam Mayor, because I'd be citing you for child support, you twisted, sordid, depraved-"

A rapid tightening in her loins forced her words to lodge in her throat. Emma's mouth locked wide open in panic as she lost all control of herself. She shuddered and her legs quaked, threatening to give way beneath her. Instinctively her hands flew out for support and grabbed Regina by the shoulders. Regina's hands sprang up and gripped her arms to take the unexpected weight as Emma groaned and lurched and convulsed. They both shook.

Emma whimpered and deflated in every way possible. She had come in her pants.

Regina was surprisingly nice about it. She didn't laugh or mock or even so much as smirk at Emma's embarrassment. She simply helped Emma back into a stable position, retrieved her makeup case which had dropped to the floor, opened it and handed Emma a small packet of tissues. Then without another word she spun on her heel and left.

Alone again, her ignominy complete, Emma fell back against the wall and sobbed in defeat.

~~

 

"I know I don't have an appointment, but I really need to talk."

Emma stood just minutes later on the threshold of Archie Hopper's office. The doctor looked surprised to see her, but as she peered through the open doorway and past his shoulder she could see that he didn't have any patients.

"Please, Archie?"

"Do you need therapy?"

"Some advice."

"Now?"

"Yes. It's urgent."

Archie beckoned her in and closed the door. He must have detected her inner turmoil because he made her some tea and put his files aside in a neat pile to show that she had his full attention. He motioned her to sit.

"Ok, Emma, what's on your mind?"

Emma sat in the armchair opposite his and winced. That damned seam again. She adjusted herself as covertly as she could so it wouldn't rub.

"I have a problem with Regina."

Archie's expression betrayed his belief that this was hardly news to anyone in Storybrooke.

"I mean a new problem. A specific one. She's cast a spell on me, and I can't get her to undo it."

"Oh dear. What kind of spell?"

"I can't tell you that."

Archie looked a little nonplussed. "Does the spell prevent you from telling me about it?"

"No."

"Are you saying that because the spell makes you say it?"

"No." Emma shook her dead and took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Look, it's not that I can't talk about it; but I really don't want to get into specifics, if we can help it. The spell she cast has done something very... specific. To me. Physically. It's physically specific."

"Ah," said Archie, folding his hands in his lap. "Does it hurt a lot?"

Emma hesitated. "No. I guess not. But it's embarrassing."

"I see." He nodded understanding. "Do you cough up slugs?"

"No, not that. It's really not the kind of thing JK Rowling would write for kids."

"Is it debilitating?"

Emma was about to say it was, but was then struck by the fact that half the population already shared her condition, so it seemed feeble of her to answer yes. She spoke slowly, thinking about it.

"A bit, at the moment, but if I got used to it perhaps not..." She stopped herself quickly and the urgency returned to her voice. "But I don't want to get used to it. I really don't. I need to get rid of it."

"Get rid of the spell."

"Yes, asap."

Archie took his glasses off and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. "You know I can't do magic, right?"

"I know, that's not why I'm here, Archie. I know you can't give me any direct help." As she said this it occurred to Emma that Archie probably could. He was a man, so he was in a position to give the most practical, long-term advice. But she dismissed that instantly, determined not to have to cross that bridge. "I'm not asking you remove the spell, Doc. I need to know how to persuade Regina to remove it. How do I get her to be, you know, sympathetic?"

"Well, it would help to know why she cast the spell on you in the first place. Did you do something to make her angry?"

"Yeah. I called her a dick."

Archie's eyebrows raised slightly at that, but he nodded wisely, mulling over the problem, and then his lips suddenly parted and his fingers froze on the frames of his glasses. An uncomfortable light appeared to dawn behind his eyes and they grew wide like saucers. Emma saw his throat move as he swallowed. His gaze fell onto her lap, then away very fast. He fiddled with his glasses and crossed his legs.

"Right," he said, his voice croaky. "Right. I see. Right." He stared at the wall and licked dry lips. "Ok, Sheriff, here's the thing..." For some reason he was compelled to call her by her job title at that moment rather than by her given name. He managed to look back at her face and fixed his gaze with brave determination on that one spot. "You didn't know Regina back in the Enchanted Forest, but you should realise - as the Evil Queen - some of the things she did were horrendous. She tortured people. She killed people. She slaughtered, for less than an insult. So, in that scheme of things, what she's done to you, if I understand the, uh, broad nature of it, isn't so bad." He forced a smile. "You're not dying. You're not in pain. You look all right, on the... the surface. So, relatively speaking, it doesn't sound like she's that angry with you to be honest, otherwise it would be a lot worse." His words grew faster and tumbled out of his mouth as he finished. He took a deep breath and slipped his glasses back on his nose. "I assume you've asked her to lift the spell?"

"Yes, and I've tried everything. I've tried threats. I've tried apologising. I've tried pleading." Emma sighed. "I even tried appealing to her sense of solidarity with the female sisterhood."

"Bwa-hah!" Archie blurted, then slapped his hand over his mouth to seal it. He scraped back an air of professionalism. "Sorry."

Emma waved away his apology. "I know. So what do I do, Doc?"

"I don't think there's much you can do. However, given what I've just said, I think it likely that she will relent, eventually. Really, she's just teasing you."

"Teasing?"

"Trust me, for her, that's probably all this is."

Emma pondered this. She trusted Archie, but he wasn't infallible. What if Regina planned to "tease" her for the rest of her natural life?

"You may be right when you say there's not much I can do," she conceded, "but Regina's not the only person in this town who knows how to use magic."

Archie started to look concerned again. "You mean..?"

"Yeah. Mr Gold. I could ask him to fix it."

Archie shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Emma. You shouldn't be encouraging the use of magic, and you certainly don't want to owe that man any favours." He shuddered. "Besides, you'd be asking him to interfere with someone else's spell."

"That's a bad thing?"

"Oh yes. There are magical etiquettes. People don't do that unless it's really important. It could cause friction, and we don't need any more of that."

You don't know how right you are, Emma thought. But as far as she was concerned this was important, and now her mind was well in gear to solving her predicament. She brightened suddenly.

"I don't need Gold to lift the spell. I just need him to give me an edge, so that I can force Regina to lift it." She grinned. For the first time since waking up she felt a gleam of hope.

"How?" Archie asked, worry creeping into his voice. But Emma was too far ahead with the plan she was formulating to answer. She stood up with renewed vigour.

"Thanks, Archie. I knew you'd be able to help."

Archie stood up with her, confused. "I did?"

"Course you did." She grabbed his hand and shook it, then slapped his upper arm in gratitude. He winced and returned her smile weakly, clearly still rather anxious. She grabbed the door and opened it.

"Yeah, Doc, I got this."

Minutes later Emma dropped her handcuffs onto the polished counter in Mr Gold's shop.

"Five dollars," said Gold.

"What?"

Gold was writing in a ledger with a quill and ink. He barely looked up. "That's my offer."

Emma started to dismiss it, but couldn't help being distracted. "Only five bucks? They're steel and nickel. Double-locking. They're worth at least five times that much."

Gold shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

Emma rolled her eyes. The stingy bastard.

"I'm not here to pawn them, Gold. I want you to enchant them."

Now she had his attention. Gold paused and looked up. "Really? To do what?"

"Make them so someone can't take them off."

Gold put down his pen and straightened up. "Forgive me, Sheriff, but isn't that why these shackles lock? And why you law-enforcement types possess a key to take them off?"

"Sure I have a key." Emma expelled air with frustration. She realised she was impatient and not explaining herself adequately. She started over. "I need you to enchant them so someone can't take them off with magic."

"So who can't?"

"Does it matter?"

"Oh yes. That determines how powerful an enchantment."

"Ok. Regina."

Gold's sharp features shifted. A number of questions flickered across his face, some apparently more salacious than others, but eventually he settled on the simplest and safest.

"Why?"

"Why do you need to know that?"

Gold looked at her as though she were stupid. He took a piece of blotting paper out of a drawer and dabbed it carefully on his neat script, then closed the ledger. "You're asking me to perform magic and won't tell me its purpose. Why do you think?" His eyes flickered to the ceiling and back. "Are you going to make an arrest?"

"Kinda." Emma chewed her lip. Did she really have to go into details before anyone would help her with this? How many more people in Storybrooke needed to learn of her personal humiliation? "Sort of. She cast a stupid spell on me and I have to get her to uncast it."

"And you think you'll do that with, what? Magic-proof handcuffs?"

"It's a start."

Gold scoffed. "It's idiotic. What's to stop her casting another on you while she's under arrest? Why couldn't she levitate the key from your pocket and, oh I don't know, unlock the cuffs?"

Emma fell silent. She hadn't thought of that. As she smarted under Gold's scornful remarks she realised she hadn't thought this through at all. Oh dear. Had possessing a dick made her stupid? Was that a natural side effect?

She tried another tack. "I'm prepared to owe you a favour, Gold. So are you going to help me or not?"

"No." Gold opened his ledger again, effectively dismissing her.

Damn it.

"Not even if I tell you what the spell is?"

Gold didn't look up. "I doubt it."

Emma's mouth turned downwards in a tight, sullen grimace. Oh what the hell. Hopper had figured it out. What did it matter now if Gold had help? If it got her what she needed...

"Ok, Gold, this is what she did..."

And she dropped her pants and boxers.

For a moment she honestly feared the Dark One was going to have a stroke. The man did a double-take and flailed backwards, colliding with a cabinet and knocking several breakable items off. His eyes and mouth shot open and he gaped at the shameless penis. He recoiled again as it bounced and swayed over the flowery boxers at half-mast.

"Holy cocking fuck!" Gold squealed in shock and almost lost the footing of his good leg. He grabbed onto the counter just in time to right himself.

Emma had no idea his voice could go that high-pitched. She stared at the veins that stood out at his temples and pulsated.

"Put it away!" Gold covered his eyes with shaking palms. "Quick!"

"I will if you'll help." Emma felt vaguely offended. It wasn't that repulsive.

"All right all right!" Gold splayed his fingers and risked a peek through the gap. He sealed them again fast. "Oh good grief, it winked!"

"You promise you'll help me? We have a deal?"

"Deal! Yes!"

Satisfied, Emma pulled her pants back up.

"Are you zipped?" Gold asked, not daring to look and check.

"Yeah, Gold, you're safe from my evil-eyed dick."

Gold dropped his hands in relief and found his cane. He lurched over to a stool and sank down on it, then opened a drawer under the counter and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He unscrewed the top and took a deep swig. After swallowing and recovering a bit, Gold looked at Emma with reproach.

"Really, Miss Swan. That's just not right."

Then he offered her the bottle. Emma almost declined, but hesitated. What the hell. It was nearly eleven o'clock and she'd forgotten to eat breakfast. She took the scotch, tipped the rim to her lips and gulped greedily. The fiery liquor washed around her teeth, stung her tongue and warmed her throat. It was good. She handed the bottle back.

"You didn't have to react so disgusted, Gold."

"You took me by surprise," said Gold, defensive. "Everything has a time and a place. This is not the time and that most certainly is not the place." He pointed at her crotch.

"We agree on that. So are you going to honour the deal and do something about it?"

"Of course. The good news is it's not a spell."

"It's not?"

"No. It's a curse."

"There's a difference? And that's good?"

Gold took a more sedate sip of scotch and nodded firmly. "Oh yes. Spells always require magic to lift. Curses, not necessarily. The more complex ones do, of course - like the curse that created this town; that was exceptional, and took exceptional magic to break. But what you've got..." His eyes focused on Emma's crotch again. "... is base."

"No shit."

"I mean, there's not a lot to it."

Emma scowled, affronted. "It's perfectly adequate." Why did she suddenly feel the need to defend her dick?

"I _mean_..." Gold repeated, a tad exasperated, "the curse is elementary. A simple rearrangement of someone's anatomy like that doesn't require much effort. Ingenuity, yes, but in execution it's whimsical."

"You don't say." Emma didn't care.

"Clever, really."

"You sound impressed." Emma wasn't.

"Well I recognise the art. It's one of Regina's earliest curses. When I was teaching her magic I would set her little tasks to practise - transform this, transmute that, transfigure something else. That's the kind of thing this is."

"You mean my dick is like, homework?"

"Essentially, yes; but a typically Regina-like adaption of the basics. Even as a novice she could be quite innovative." A nostalgic little smile tugged at Gold's mouth. "I remember once she made all the hens in the palace coop lay cubed eggs. You should have heard them squawk."

Emma winced.

Gold's expression turned wistful. "Ah, Regina, my most wickedly entertaining apprentice... I do miss nourishing that capricious streak. Occasionally she went too far, of course. A couple of times I had to span..." He stopped talking abruptly and coughed. His face grew serious. "Enough of that. Safe to say, yours is quite a common curse."

"Great. And that means what?"

"That you won't have to embark on an epic quest or retrieve some rare mystical artefact. It's tuned to a very simple break, which you can perform without magic. A particular phrase, for example."

"Really?" Emma was encouraged. "Like..." She looked down at her groin. " _Fall off_."

She waited. Her dick didn't. Ok, not that, then. She looked at Gold impatiently. "So what will it be?"

Gold shook his head. "You're missing the point. It could be anything. For all I know you have to stand in the town square in just stilettos and a smile and shout 'I'm the mayor's bitch' three times on a Sunday."

Emma felt the colour drain from her face. Gold reached across the counter and picked up the handcuffs. He held them up and smiled at her.

"The point is, this curse doesn't need magic to break it. So Regina doesn't need magic to break it. So you can bind her magic for a little while, and then force her to tell you how to do it."

Emma's eyes focused on the cuffs as she let this sink in. "Oh," she said, feeling better about herself, "so my original idea will work?"

"With a little expert modification and guidance."

"Do it," said Emma. Her resolve felt empowering. "Magic those shinies."

Gold put away his scotch, lay the cuffs neatly on the counter, stood up and brought a wooden box out from underneath. He opened it and selected a small glass flask and a few other tiny corked bottles. "I'll need one of your hairs."

Emma started to tease a long strand with her fingertips but Gold held up a finger.

"Ah, no." He pointed at her groin.

Emma glanced down and up. "You've got to be shitting me."

"One of those, please."

"What difference does it make?"

"Context, dearie. Every little helps."

Emma groaned. "Fine. You got some scissors back there?"

Gold waved his finger negatively. "I need the whole thing." He averted his gaze.

"Oh for f-" Emma turned to one side and shoved both hands down her pants. She was so going to make Regina pay for this indignity and suffering. With success in her effort to break the curse now significantly on the cards, a small, brave part of Emma hoped that Regina would not give up the solution too quickly. Emma thought she would enjoy smacking her around a bit.

She found what she needed and grasped it between a thumb and forefinger, then held her skin firmly with the other hand and plucked hard.

"Ow!"

"Got one?" asked Gold, still looking anywhere but at Emma.

"Here."

Gold held out the flask and she dropped the curly hair into it.

"Natural blonde, eh, dearie?"

"Please shut up and do your thing."

Emma watched as Gold did something that looked clever and occult with his little bottles. There were sparkles and shifting colours, and a strangely sweet smell. When he'd finished he held up the flask, which was now glowing inside like a little piece of captured sunlight. He turned it upside down over Emma's handcuffs and a glittering vapour swirled around them like something alive and fickle. The metal gleamed briefly with an inner radiance as it absorbed the spell's power.

"There," said Gold. "All yours." He packed his things away.

Emma picked up the handcuffs. They didn't look or feel any different now. "You sure these will work?"

"Of course; but not indefinitely. Those will bind the magic of the wearer completely, and such an enchanted item is too powerful to release without obsolescence built in. You've got one hour."

Emma checked her watch. It was eleven o'clock now. She only had until noon.

"That's not long to find her and make her talk. What if I can't do it in an hour?"

Gold's shiny tooth glinted inside his grin. "Every realm has its traditional methods of persuasion. I'm sure you have some ideas, Sheriff." He called out after her in a sing-song voice as she left his shop. "And remember, dearie, magic always comes at a price."

 

Emma wasted no time getting into her patrol car and putting her foot down. A quick call on her cell phone to the town hall gleaned only that the mayor was currently out of her office, whereabouts unknown. Emma sped straight up Storybrooke's Main Street, scouring the sidewalks for a glimpse of the woman. Where the hell could she be this time of the morning? Getting her nails done?

Emma was just starting to think about mustering a posse to track her down when she caught sight of her in the distance. Regina was walking quickly towards her, as though she had somewhere to be. Emma turned her vehicle sharply into an ally and parked, but left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. She got out of the car and flattened herself against the brick wall. She risked a peek around the corner and pulled back swiftly. Regina was just a few strides away.

The moment Regina appeared Emma stepped in front of her. Regina halted, startled.

"Miss Swan, I was just coming to see you-"

Emma hauled her into the alley and threw her face up against the wall. Regina's cry of surprise was cut short as the impact winded her. In half a second Emma had a cuff snapped on Regina's left wrist. She twisted the other behind Regina's back and locked them together.

Regina managed to spin herself around away from the wall. The fury on her face at that moment was as explosive as any Emma had ever seen. She pulled at the cuffs, trying to free herself. When she failed her jaw set and her eyes narrowed to twin furnaces. They flashed for an instant.

Emma held her breath. Nothing happened.

Regina's eyes widened again. She struggled. Dreadful realisation dawned.

"No..."

Emma grinned in triumph. "Gotcha."

Emma pulled the car's rear door open and propelled Regina inside.

"Let me go!" Regina cried as she toppled sideways onto the seat. Emma caught a flash of silky purple underwear before she slammed the door shut. She got behind the wheel again and reversed back around into the street. Regina's head appeared in the rear view mirror as the momentum helped her get upright.

"You're arresting me?" Regina asked in disbelief.

"Not exactly." Emma shoved the stick forward and floored the gas. "We're not going to the station. I'm taking you somewhere we won't be interrupted."

"So this is kidnapping! And assault!"

"You want to talk about felonies?" asked Emma. "Because what you've done to me counts as a sex crime in my book."

Regina scoffed. "How the hell do you figure that?"

"You made me come when I didn't want to!" Emma snarled at the mirror.

Regina looked like she was about to argue, but Emma swung around a corner with a screech of tyres and Regina wound up with her cheek sealed against a window instead. With difficulty she righted herself.

"Miss Swan! There's a speed limit!"

"There's also a limit to what I'll put up with."

"Is that whisky I can smell? Have you been drinking?"

"Not enough."

Regina's next command was imperious. "Stop this car immediately and take these handcuffs off."

"Nope."

Regina kicked the door and shouted at the window, trying to attract attention. "Help!" She kicked and yelled again, but the car was moving too fast for passers-by to notice the mayor inside being abducted. "Help!"

"Quit that," said Emma, "or I'll put you in the trunk."

Regina fumed. "You're fired. And I will be pressing charges."

"You can't fire me from custody. So gee, when this is over I guess I'll just have to arrest myself."

Regina's voice went up an octave. "The lights! _Stop!_ "

Emma accelerated over a junction as the traffic lights turned red. Regina disappeared from view again as the g-forces knocked her back into the seat.

"You maniac!"

Less than a minute later Emma rode up the sidewalk and halted close to her parents' apartment. She was confident it would be empty because everyone would be at school or work. She dragged Regina out by the arm and made her walk the short distance. The combination of Regina's reluctance, heels, tight skirt and the handcuffs made this a precarious endeavour, but Emma knew how to subdue and control a captive: arm under the cuffs up the back, fist on the collar, pull, push... Regina swore and protested at the discomfort but Emma didn't relent.

Once safely inside with the door locked Emma shoved Regina down onto one of the dining chairs and grabbed David's toolbox from under the sink. She dropped it on the floor with a harsh clatter by Regina's feet.

"Right," Emma said, a little breathless, "you are going to tell me how to break this dick curse, or I'm going to get medieval on you with pliers and a blowtorch."

Regina glared up at her with eyes that smouldered. Her silk blouse had lost a button, her face was flushed and her hair was mussed. Her lip rose in a trademark sneer.

"Pliers and blowtorches are modern instruments, dear. Like you, your metaphor lacks class."

"Don't get cute with me." Emma knew she could not waste what little time she'd got. She had to step up her threats. She opened the tool box and grabbed a vicious-looking set of pliers. She flexed her grip on the handle, making the steel jaws open and shut. She advanced on Regina. "What's it going to be first? Fingernail? Thumbnail? One of those impossibly white teeth?"

Regina shrank back. "You wouldn't."

"You have no idea what I'm capable of. So either you tell me how to break this curse, or I break you. Ya feel me, bitch?" She waved the pliers in front of Regina's face.

Regina balked. "All right, all right!"

" _Tell_ me!"

"I already did!"

Emma stopped. A beat passed.

"What?"

"I already told you how to break it," said Regina, her eyes still wary on the pliers.

Emma let her arm drop. Confusion descended on her like a fog.

"When?"

"Earlier this morning, in the restroom." Regina spoke more slowly, as though she were trying to explain something to someone with limited mental capacity. "I told you to have fun with it."

Emma needed a moment to get her head around that. She allowed herself a couple more, taking the scenic route. At last her brain completed its circuit and said hello to itself.

"You mean...?"

Regina smiled indulgently, nodding encouragement.

Emma's brow creased with the effort. "I have to use it?"

"Yes."

"For sex?"

"Uh-huh."

"Use my dick to have sex?"

"You got it."

Emma dropped the pliers back in the toolbox. They landed with a heavy clunk.

"How many times?"

"Just the once, dear."

"Huh." Emma wiped a hand over her face. It felt kind of numb. "Wait a sec. Back in the restroom, I already-"

"Proper sex," Regina clarified. "With someone else. Preferably human."

Emma's eyebrows shot up at the implied alternative. "Eww!"

"Get your mind out of the bestial sewer, Miss Swan. Back in the Enchanted Forest we also had fairies and dwarves... granted I'd give the trolls a miss." Regina pulled a face at an unsavoury memory that she would obviously rather forget.

Emma shook her head to clear it. Of course. That had to be it. What else would get a young Regina's jollies like that? Talk about whimsical and capricious. She didn't doubt that Regina was telling the truth, not even for a second. It wasn't just the threat of grievous bodily harm that convinced her of Regina's honesty. It was the poetic delinquency that made perfect sense.

Emma sighed. Well that was that. She wasn't going to be rid of her inappropriate friend any time soon, then. She had no significant other to ask for help, and she was unlikely to start casual dating now that she had this unconventional anatomical arrangement. Musing on her future, Emma entertained the hope that one day, perhaps this side of the menopause if she was fortunate, she would find someone open-minded - someone understanding enough - who would, given a careful explanation of the temporary nature of her condition and the one-off solution needed to cure it, consent to her performing the necessary act. But it wasn't going to be this week, or even this year if she was frank with herself.

"Oh well." She sighed again, despondent. "I guess there's no rush."

"Um, actually..."

"Wait a minute." Emma was suddenly struck by something she had ignored until now; something that might be important. "Why were you coming to see me?"

"What?"

"Before I grabbed you. You said you were just coming to see me." Emma started to get suspicious. "What did you have to say to me that was so urgent?"

Regina's expression became unusually contrite. Emma realised that if Regina had the use of her hands she would be holding them up, palm outwards, in a gesture designed to placate her.

"Ok, Miss Swan, before you start ripping my toenails out, I just want you to know that this is something I genuinely forgot."

"What?" asked Emma, her tone dangerous.

"There is a bit of a rush."

Emma felt every muscle in her body start to contract with alarm and renewed distrust.

"Why?"

"Because there's a timer on the break - which like I said I genuinely forgot-"

"Explain quicker!"

"If you don't break the curse soon, it will take root."

Emma stared at her. "Take root?" She stared harder. "Like a _shrub_?"

Regina looked thoughtful for a moment, then approved Emma's choice. "A fair comparison."

Emma was livid. She could hardly speak. The words rattled out of her mouth like iron nails striking granite.

"You're telling me I'm gonna have a fucking weed growing where I should have a clit?"

"Be less eloquent. I dare you."

Emma slapped Regina hard across the face.

"How's that?"

Harder than Emma realised, apparently, because Regina almost fell sideways off the chair as a result. It was only because her shoulder hit the dining table that she didn't end up on the floor in a heap. Plus, Emma's palm really stung afterwards. Regina rocked back into a sitting position on the flimsy chair, dazed and blinking with a broad welt reddening her cheek.

Emma wondered whether she should feel remorse for hitting Regina so hard. Striking a manacled prisoner wasn't exactly sporting, no matter who it was. She should give a damn about that, at least. She thought some more. She tried.

No. Damn not given. She hoped she'd shaken a tooth loose.

Regina worked her jaw painfully. She licked her lips and eventually spoke.

"Ok, I'll let you have that one, because to be honest I'm embarrassed that I forgot about the ticking clock."

"How could you forget something so critical?"

"It was a long time ago when I devised this curse."

"And why would you do something so irresponsible as set a timer on it in the first place?"

"I was young!" Regina looked almost abashed.

"How long have I got?" Emma asked.

"Well let's see..." Regina looked up at the clock on the wall. "You came to see me yesterday at about eleven thirty, I think. You spent a good fifteen minutes droning on about your concerts in the park."

"No I didn't."

"Then a few more insulting me."

"It wasn't fifteen minutes."

"Then I cast the curse."

"How. Long?"

Regina glanced back up at the clock. "You know, we should probably round it down to noon to be safe."

Emma stared at Regina in horror. "Today?"

"Yes, it's a twenty-four hour tick."

"That's in twenty minutes!"

"Now you know why I was coming to tell you about it."

"I have to find someone to fuck in twenty fucking minutes!?" Emma nearly choked on her own spit. She could feel her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth and tiny capillaries popping around her eyelids. Now there was only one thing for it. She seized Regina by the arms in a bruising grip and hauled her upright.

"Right, Madam Mayor, you're going to find me a hooker. And you're paying!"

Regina looked incredulous. "Find you a hooker? How the hell can _I_ find you a hooker? I don't know any hookers! Why would I ever need a hooker? Miss Swan, in what realm of impossibility do you envision my ever having to pay for it?"

"It's either that or I roast your ass!"

"You're deluded!"

"So that's it?" Emma's grip tightened so fiercely that Regina's heels lost contact with the floor. "I'm fucked, because I can't get fucked?"

"There is an alternative."

"What?"

"Me."

Emma dropped her. She fell back a pace and gaped.

" _You?_ "

"Yes."

"I don't like you!"

"Your cock does."

Emma's mind reeled. For precious long seconds she couldn't speak. Hell, she could hardly think straight. Then it dawned on her. Holy crap, Regina was serious.

Somehow, in the primitive part of her brain, Emma knew it was inevitable at this point. That primordial bit of her nervous system where survival instincts and the fight or flight imperative reside had already figured it out. It was the higher functioning part of her brain which was too busy arguing and intellectualising that hadn't caught up yet. That was the part that made a token protest.

"No no no," she said. "You're evil. Not just evil. You're Evil with a capital 'E' evil. I can't."

"So keep your cock," said Regina, flicking a glance at Emma's pants. "Or take up my offer. Which, I might add, is rather generous."

"Are you screwing with me?"

"Not yet." Regina threw a meaningful look at the clock.

Emma froze while her primitive brain grabbed the cognitive part by the scruff of the neck and tried to shake some sense into it.

Regina looked across to the far side of the room, where the Charmings' twee but serviceable double bed stood. She nodded towards it, then looked back at Emma. She raised her eyebrows. "Tick tock."

Emma decided. "Right. But we're not violating my parents' bed." She spun Regina around to face the dining table, hoisted her up by the waist and dropped her face down on top of it.

"Ooh," said Regina, and gasped appreciatively.

"Don't," said Emma, tugging Regina's skirt up her thighs.

"Don't what?"

"Sound like you like it." She gripped Regina's purple panties between her fists and ripped them apart.

"Those were expensive."

"Good," said Emma, and dropped her pants.

_Two minutes later..._

Still bent face down over the table, Regina treated Emma to her best sarcasm yet:

"It's ok, darling, it can happen to anyone."

"You're putting me off!" _Stupid, flaccid, useless dick..._

Regina's overly-dramatic sigh was part impatience, part disappointment.

"I should have known you'd be the type who takes too long to start and no doubt finishes too fast."

Emma growled through gritted teeth. "I'm new to this. And the pressure doesn't help."

"I could give you a hand if you take these cuffs off."

"Save it." Emma groaned with unrewarded effort. Why wouldn't the fucker stand up? She rubbed it and coaxed but her dick was still soft and useless.

"Now I make it fifteen minutes."

"Shut _up_!" Emma slapped Regina's ass.

Regina yelped, then asked, "Did that work? Because if abusing me helps..."

Emma tried to ignore her. "Oh come on," she said, "wake up."

Regina turned her head, trying to look over her shoulder. "Are you speaking to it now?"

"Come on, boy..."

"You've assigned it a gender?" Regina sounded astonished.

"What's it to you if I have?" Emma rubbed and cajoled, still to little effect.

"I'm just saying that if you're developing a psychological attachment to it in times of stress, that's a sure sign time's running out. You should probably hurry."

"Well if you stopped distracting me!"

"Don't give it a name, whatever you do."

Emma threw up both hands in frustration. "You know what, Regina? You are way too fond of the sound of your own voice." Emma looked round for inspiration and spotted the basket of clean laundry on a nearby chair, all neatly folded now. She rummaged through the pile of whites and found a pair of Mary Margaret's cotton panties. She leaned forward and shoved them in Regina's mouth, pulling the twisted cloth hard between Regina's teeth to tie a firm knot at the back of her head. Regina moaned sensuously and her thighs parted.

Apparently that did it.

"Oh wait a sec," said Emma, "I think we might be getting somewhere."

Sure enough her little fella was stirring. Sleepy yet hungry, like a teenager shaking off the sublime laziness of bed for the more powerful need for breakfast, she was firming up. Emma adjusted her stance and placed her hands on Regina's hips. The skin beneath her palms felt perfectly smooth and enticing. She swelled in response.

Ok, she thought, just a little more stimulus. She looked at the beautiful woman in front of her - hair and clothing dishevelled, slender wrists captured, wanton and helpless. She pressed her bare legs against toned thighs, spreading them further, feeling their heat. She breathed in deeply through her nose, inhaling Regina's scent, and quickly grew hard and erect. The tip of her cock brushed against silky curls and she gasped at her own sensitivity. One hand left a trim hip to guide herself to Regina's soft entrance. She closed her eyes and nudged gently forwards, slipping an inch inside with ease and delight. A soft cry escaped her throat. Oh, that felt really, really good...

Emma's primeval brain congratulated its advanced counterpart for getting a clue at last.

"Oh..." said Emma, releasing a breath she didn't know she was holding. She pushed in further and heard Regina moan into the table top. "Oh, that's..." Emma didn't really have the words to articulate how wonderful it felt. She bit her lip. Regina was warm and soft and so damn tight. Emma felt like she was held inside the most exquisite, slippery velvet. Instinct took over and Emma slid herself all the way forward. Her eyes opened again with amazement at the immediate intensity of the sensations in her cock. Regina fitted like a firm, sultry, tailored glove.

"Oh, fuck," said Emma, all the more articulate expressions of her pleasure utterly beyond her. She thought she realised then why men were such slaves to their dicks. Right now it was as if no other part of her anatomy existed, least of all her brain, which felt like it was really struggling for nutrients at this point. But out of the corner of her eye she saw Regina's toes curling so tightly that her shoes fell off.

She pulled out a couple of inches and then slid in again. She heard Regina gasp and the sensuous sound encouraged her. Out, in; out and in again. The movement felt so natural and spontaneous. Her hips seemed to rock of their own volition and she sped up. There was something about the way Regina gripped the head of her cock that felt so good and right and she just had to keep moving it back and forth.

Emma started to breathe harshly as she increased her pace. She drove in harder, eager for the delicious friction that was by now the only thing that mattered. The woman beneath her shook with each more powerful thrust. Emma gripped her ass and held on tight for leverage - faster, deeper. She gasped with effort and the table creaked.

She was aware of Regina's bare heels sliding against the backs of her legs, urging her on. The whimpering sounds that were coming out of Regina's mouth were shameless and desperate. They sent a signal to Emma's core that only made her thrusts more feverish. She released one quivering buttock to slide a hand forward around Regina's waist. She could afford to be magnanimous. She found the slippery, swollen centre of Regina's need and began to circle with her fingertips. Regina bucked beneath her and Emma started to feel light-headed. Her chest heaved, sucking in oxygen, and then she felt the most exquisite rippling around her thrusts. Regina's legs went rigid against her and the other woman cried out in climax.

The squeezing and rippling sent Emma over the edge. Her hips shuddered forward uncontrollably, like they were pulled by invisible reins attached to her cock. Her legs quaked, her pelvis tightened, and she exploded in short, powerful bursts. She groaned and fell forward, collapsing so that the table protested loudly under their combined weight.

Then all Emma could feel for the next few moments were her own grunts of release subsiding and her noisy gasps for breath.

As Emma sprawled across Regina's firm ass, her limbs trembling and sweat trickling down her chest, she sensed Regina still pulsating and shuddering around her like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With the blood returning to her head, Emma had a near mystical revelation. She reflected on that last night in the Garden of Eden when Adam and Eve tasted the forbidden fruit. Adam might have superior upper body strength, she decided, but Eve definitely had the smarts; because when God was divvying up the capacity for multiple orgasms verses the ability to pee standing up, Eve knew which side her coochie was buttered.

Still, it had been awesome while it lasted.

Too drained to stand up yet, Emma found herself stroking Regina's back to aid the shaking woman's recovery, surprised that for once she felt so solicitous. That was when she caught the sound of feet scuffing outside the apartment. A familiar female giggle filtered through the door, then the rattling of the lock. What happened next seemed to follow in slow motion - inevitable and fatalistic, like when you're driving on an icy road and you see the oncoming car skid, and you can't brake and you know there's going to be a collision which you'll be lucky to survive, and even if you do life will never be quite the same afterwards...

The door swung inward as a laughing Mary Margaret looped a striped tie over the handle and David appeared beside her, grinning with anticipation. Then Mary Margaret's eyes met Emma's, then so did David's, and their expressions froze as time ground to a halt and the universe did a little wobble on its axis.

Despite that, Emma's brain processed this turn of events with an accuracy that was remarkably calm and succinct:

Huh. Parental lunchtime booty call. I just can't catch a break.

And Mary Margaret's giggle turned into something agonised and hoarse.

"No..."

Emma watched, still collapsed against Regina's ass, as her mother's knees buckled underneath her and David scrambled to catch his falling wife. At that very moment she felt a tingling sensation in her groin, then a prickling, and then it was as if she was fizzing inside Regina as something sparked briefly back to life, then dissipated and abruptly vanished.

"Oh, thank God," said Emma, feeling her face contort into relief and bliss. "Oh yes, yes, _yes_!" The curse was broken. She was rid of her dick.

At that, Mary Margaret slid down the door and shrieked.

No longer attached to Regina, Emma found the strength to lever herself upright. She heard a deep, melodious chuckle coming from the table and saw that Regina was smirking around her gag. As far as the mayor was concerned, this had to be the icing on the cake.

Mary Margaret's knuckles turned white as she held on to the tie for support. She screamed at the world in general.

"I need another baby!"

David staggered, trying to keep Mary Margaret vertical. As he struggled with her near dead weight his eyes flickered back and forth between Emma and Regina, concern taking over from shock. Emma realised that he saw Regina mercilessly handcuffed and gagged and apparently violated, and bless him he just couldn't help being gallant.

"Uh, Regina," he asked tentatively, "are you ok with this?"

Regina responded in a sultry tone that showed she was more than ok with it.

"Mm-mmm."

Mary Margaret wailed in anguish.

Emma grabbed the handcuffs and hauled Regina back up off the table.

"That was uncalled for."

Regina continued to smirk, like she'd licked all the cream off the kids' Christmas trifle and didn't care who knew it.

Tears were running down Mary Margaret's cheeks. "I need another baby now! One that's not sullied and corrupted."

Emma looked at her. "Gee, Mom, thanks."

"Regina's defiled her!" Mary Margaret wept.

David grimaced. Emma's and Regina's relative positions at the dining table were apparently enough to sow doubt as to the accuracy of Mary Margaret's statement. He appeared to be getting over his surprise quite fast. He even seemed a little impressed by what the fruit of his loins had managed to pull. Whatever he was thinking he wisely kept it to himself. Instead his observation was of the more practical sort.

"Seriously, Emma. We have to eat off that."

By now Mary Margaret was in full flood.  "She's robbed us of our firstborn. Again!"

David squinted at Emma's legs. "Are those my favourite boxers?"

Emma realised that only the hem of her shirt was covering what was left of her modesty, and not doing a particularly decent job of it. She hastily pulled up her pants. Regina, meanwhile, slipped back into her heels with an elegance that defied her restraints and sat down on her chair again. Her blouse was ripped open to the waist and her skirt still riding high on her thighs. She crossed her legs in a move dangerously reminiscent of the _Basic Instinct_ flash.

David dropped his boneless wife as a result and fell on his ass. Fortunately Mary Margaret's eyes were too blurred with tears to see what made her husband emit the kind of sound a kitten makes when thrown down a well to a watery death.

"Why?" she cried, inconsolable. "Why?"

Regina enunciated helpfully around her gag. "Becuathe I magicked her a nithe cock."

Somewhere in Storybrooke at that moment a clock chimed twelve. The air in the apartment shimmered, and a few seconds later there was a clink of falling metal as Emma's handcuffs dropped from Regina's wrists. Regina brought her arms forward stiffly and rolled her shoulders. She pulled the cloth from her mouth, stood up and straightened her skirt.

"Well," she said, smiling sweetly like she'd just partaken of lemonade and cupcakes, "this has been nice." She turned to Emma. "Thank you, Emma, for such a lovely diversion. We must do it again soon."

Emma didn't have the presence of mind to stop herself nodding politely. Then she covered her mouth in horror. Fuck!

Regina's smile broadened in wicked triumph. "And we can, quite easily. This is such an easy little curse, hardly a one off; very much the repeatable sort." She cupped Emma's chin with her fingertips and pressed a soft, chaste kiss on her lips. Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. "I'll let you use the cuffs again."

Then as Emma watched with her heart in her mouth, Regina walked coolly to the door and picked her way over David's sprawled legs. David flailed as Mary Margaret's panties landed on his nose - warm, moist and very relaxed after their sojourn in Regina's mouth. Regina's voice rose again to condescension.

"Really, Snow, a double gusset? You need help."

And with that Regina sauntered out.

And as Emma recalled Gold's warning that magic always comes at a price, she honestly could not tell whether she had just made the worst - or potentially the best - mistake of her adult life.

 

~~~


End file.
